


One Time They Were Each Worthy

by EmpyreanSun



Series: One Time They Were Each Worthy [1]
Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012), The Avengers - All Fandoms
Genre: I may add further characters after the main six
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-15
Updated: 2013-07-24
Packaged: 2017-11-10 01:22:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/460668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmpyreanSun/pseuds/EmpyreanSun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One time each of the team were worthy enough to lift Mjolnir. One chapter for each main character, and I may add bonus chapters. I haven't decided which character shall be central in the coming chapters, so if you decide to leave a review, please suggest who you'd like next as that would really help with the decision.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Steve

One Time they were each Worthy

Chapter One – Steve

The first time someone other than Thor was able to lift the hammer it was in a circumstance that none of them had expected. The God of Thunder was no-where in sight, having been buried under a crumbling building after dropping Mjolnir to push Captain America out of the danger zone. All that could be seen was the corner of the magnificent red cape, now dusty, torn and looking too much like the colour of dried blood, peeking out from under a particularly large, intact piece of stone.

Having cascaded to the ground hard, it took a few moments for the ringing in Steve's head to subside, and his vision to tone down the brightness of every colour around him. As the past few moment's events replayed in his mind and arranged themselves into chronological order, the soldier scrambled to his feet, realising that the Thunder God had just saved his life. He may be a super solider, but he doubted his body would have survived the tonne of concrete that had just formed the impressive mountain before him.

An Asgardian God could though.

Sprinting towards the debris, he felt his heart contract painfully at the meagre sight of the red cape. Hope and denial overtook this sensation though as he reached the destruction and realised it was mostly one large slab that was covering the area where Thor should be.

Mjolnir lay metres from the cape was visible, on the site where it has been dropped as Thor propelled Steve towards safety. As the Captain reached the spot he subconsciously bent and grasped the handle without even slowing his sprint.

He didn't even notice that he was able to lift it. He didn't even notice the hum as it adjusted to his grip, or the slight change in the air pressure around him. He just kept on running until he reached the stone that Thor should be beneath.

With one circular swing, that the Asgardian would have been proud of, the hammer connected with the stone and sent it flying ten metres into the air, shattering it as it did so.

Cushioned between a few other rocks in the remaining crater lay Thor. Steve sprang forward, still not letting go of the hammer, still not having truly noticed that he'd lifted it, and lifted his teammate gentle with his left hand.

"Thor?" He asked, mostly managing to cradle the Asgardian's broad shoulders in his free arm. The blonde God, although covered in a few notable bruises and bloodstains, seemed to be miraculously unharmed for the most part. But he remained still.

"Thor? Can you hear me?" He gave the God a gentle shake, before putting an ear to his chest and listening. The lightning-wielder had once mentioned that Asgardian physiology was very similar to that of humans, so the soldier expected to hear a heartbeat.

Steve had seen first-hand what Thor was capable of, and knew he only ever sustained minimal injuries. Although he had never seen the Asgardian unconscious like this, his almost blinding faith pushed aside any worry.

That faith was rewarded when he felt a small cough brush the hair on his neck, and sat up to see vivid blue eyes staring into his own.

"What happened Steve Rogers?" Thor asked moving into a sitting position.

"Take it easy," the Captain replied, "you did just take a building for me. Literally." His hand remained on the red caped-back for moral support as much as physical, and perhaps a little for his own sake, so he could feel that the God's life was fully intact.

It was in this position, Thor sitting and Steve kneeling, that the other Avengers found them. Although there was a whole building's worth of rubble around them, the other team members zoned in immediately on their comrades, and Tony was the first to point out, in a quietly stunned voice without any sarcasm, that Steve was holding the hammer.

It was a full minute before any of them said anything else. Steve broke the silence with "Oh. I didn't really…realise."

Thor patted him on the back kindly; a warm smile lighting up his face. "For saving my life you were deemed worthy my friend."

Steve paused before extending his hand holding Mjolnir out to Thor. "I'm not sure I'll ever be worthy enough for that kind of power."

As the Asgardian took the hammer and it hummed in recognition of his touch, Steve was still unable to take his eyes off it.

They both stood up and were immediately bombarded with questions from the other four, but as Steve was still stunned into silence, which Tony cheekily commented he would miss later, and Thor had been unconscious for the most part, answers had to wait until later.

Once they arrived back at Stark Tower after a de-briefing and de-suiting, Tony suggested Steve try lifting it again. Steve replied that it was Thor's weapon and sacred to Asgardians, therefore not his place to. Thor smiled and said Steve may try again if he wished.

There was an almost hushed intake of breath as the soldier gripped the handle…which the deflated as he found himself unable to lift it. Although he had told Thor he wouldn't merit that kind of power, Steve felt the slightest disappointment that he was no longer worthy enough to hold it again.

This was instantly erased when Thor clapped him on the back and said a few kind words about how he owed Steve Rogers his life, and he would therefore always be worthy in the Asgardian's eyes. The mood of the six then seemed to lift, and even Natasha cracked a smile when a few hours later, after a couple of drinks, Tony tried lifting the hammer.


	2. Clint

Chapter Two – Clint

The second time someone other than Thor was able to lift the hammer it was in a solitary moment of personal victory. There had been a fight outside of a covert military base, Clint mused that there was always a fight when the Avengers were involved, so this was really a moot point. They had been formed to fight the battles the rest of the world could not, as Fury had termed it. 

While never one to shy away from a fight, Hawkeye felt oddly proud of the fact that, most of the time, the Avengers did not instigate the conflict against others, but fought back to defend people across the world.

In the case that was currently occupying his thoughts, this was exactly what had happened. They had been sent in to investigate a large site where they believed an organisation creating and selling illegal nuclear weapons was using the face of a technology company as its cover.

Being the most experienced, and fully trained, in this area, Clint and Natasha had moved in and infiltrated the building first, while the four remaining members of the team positioned themselves around the perimeter. The archer blamed himself for the fatal error that caused the whole mission to slide towards its endgame. Instead of maintaining radio silence whilst Stark muttered cheeky pieces of sarcasm through their communication channel, Clint couldn’t help but emit a witty retort that blew Tony’s comment out of the water. It also blew his cover. 

The passing patrol guards overheard the assassin’s remark and attacked him in earnest. While Clint’s quick reflexes were enough to win him the two-against-one combat, their surprise attack cost him an injury to his striking arm. The one he released his arrows with.

“I’ve been exposed.” He almost yelled as an alarm went off somewhere, most definitely a result of his indiscretion. “I’m hit too.” He mumbled gruffly, knowing Nat would be rolling her eyes in disappointment, and not liking the trail of deep red blood he was leaving behind him.

They had agreed on a meeting point if anything went wrong, which was where he was heading for. If they could regroup without any further agents seeing them, they would have a chance of completing the mission on another occasion. He could minimise the damage he had caused.

Unfortunately such a hope was about was not to be realised.

The archer made it to the closest exit, staunching the blood flow from his arm by ripping up part of his sleeve. After shutting the door behind him, he knelt down to assess the best route to their rendezvous point. He was sheltered by the alcove of the building, but would have to cross the open expanse of the loading bay to make it to the perimeter fence. It seemed pointless to maintain radio silence now, so he touched the earpiece to contact Thor, who he knew was closest to his own position. 

Before summoning any words he looked to the roof on instinct, and then reflexively dived forward to avoid the falling gunfire from a guard aiming down at him. Having no other choice, Clint sprinted into the open space, bestowing messy deaths upon the rooftop guard and two others at ground level. The arrows hit their targets, but not with the usual finite precision. The wound in his upper arm was distorting his aim, and more blood seeped through the improvised bandage with each arrow fired.

Another large group of agents appeared in his long-distance vision line as they came out of one of the loading bay hatches. Clint began taking them down two at a time, although much slower than usual. They were each armed with a variety of close combat weapons. As they closed in he knew he wouldn’t be fast enough to shoot them all, but then suddenly Thor was landing beside him and sending them all back in the direction they came from with streaks of lightning. The bolts seemed toned down in order to send the men into unconsciousness, but not toward death. 

“I saw you coming.” Thor said as a way of answering the question indicated by Clint’s raised eyebrow. 

“Thanks for the backup.” Clint acknowledged as they proceeded to take down a few more opponents.

Without any other warning than “Barton!”, Thor suddenly spun the archer round so they had switched positions and threw Mjolnir off into the distance. As the hammer landed a solid hit on what Clint could now make out as crossbow firer, something buried itself in Thor’s neck. He pulled it out brusquely, but not before the contents had emptied into an artery. 

“A dart?” Clint asked, studying the small object in the blonde’s outstretched palm, before looking for signs of damage.

The Asgardian though wasn’t looking back at him, but instead had his right hand raised to call for the hammer which was beginning to fly back over the distance it had travelled from them. 

“Thor, are you-”, but before the assassin could finish, Mjolnir dropped out of the air mid-flight and the God of Thunder stumped back a pace, raising his hand to his head.

“Hey, are you ok?” Clint was mildly alarmed that something could be having an effect on the tall Asgardian, since they were pretty much immortal. Thor turned to him, as if to answer, with a confused expression flickering across his face, before inexplicably dropping to his knees on the ground. Clint managed to catch some of his weight as he fell, letting go of the dart in the process.

It was at this moment that the rest of the team arrived. Clint grappled for the dart and examined the contents in order to work out that it had been filled with cyanide. They then had to grab Thor unceremoniously and head for the rendezvous point, where a jet was waiting for them, with Iron Man holding back the swarming agents. 

It was only as the engine geared up to take off that they realised Mjolnir had been left behind, in the open area of the loading bay. Clint wanted to go back for it, but Natasha pointed out that only Thor could lift it so there was little point. Tony then interjected that Steve managed it, and Steve countered, in a modest tone, that he had been saving Thor’s life and that was the only reason he had been worthy.

Once they had a medic on board check Thor’s vitals and confirm that he was just unconscious, they all relaxed somewhat and settled for the journey back to the S.H.I.E.L.D base.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen him unconscious like this, except from sleeping.” Steve murmured from his position leaning against a cargo net, watching the peaceful visage of his teammate.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything have enough strength to knock him out.” Clint returned.

“Kind of scary isn’t it. That the most deadly poison known to man can only knock this guy unconscious.” Something in Brice’s tone hinted at a kind of warm acknowledgement that he wasn’t alone, and that maybe someone else could match the other guy.

The rest of the journey was spent exchanging a few quiet words, with most of the team not being able to stop glancing back at the Asgardian. Even Steve, who had seen this once before, though not for long, found his eyes drawn back to Thor. He looked somehow vulnerable as a reflection of the blue sky and white clouds overhead rolled across his armour. 

~A~

Clint lent against the wall of the main corridor in S.H.I.E.L.D’s medical wing of the helicarrier. With his arms crossed and one boot propped against the bottom of the wall, anyone passing by would think he was waiting for someone. But he wasn’t. From his vantage point he could observe Thor through the glass in the door of his hospital room. 

The God of Thunder was still unconscious, though the medical team didn’t think it would be long before he woke up. They also said his regenerative powers meant that there wouldn’t be any side-effects. 

Although this was all positive news, the archer still felt a mild sense of unease. Like something was missing. Clint knew of course that he was tossing this thought in a circular motion round his mind because they had left Mjolnir behind. It didn’t seem right. Thor lying in a hospital bed without the hammer sitting conspicuously somewhere close by, and drawing almost as much attention from those of civilian status, as the Avengers themselves. 

It wasn’t that Thor was nothing without the hammer, on the contrary, his array of abilities meant that he didn’t always need a weapon to take down an opponent. But Mjolnir was a part of him. Only Clint, with the eyes of his name-sake, had noticed that it seemed to thrum with not just any energy, but Thor’s energy. Almost like it were alive. 

So to Clint it felt like they had left more than simply a weapon behind. This was why he found himself strapping into the pilot’s seat of one of the smaller jets, and disengaging communication as several voices asked him to state his intent, and sternly told him he was not authorised for take-off. 

“I don’t give a damn…” He muttered as the engine shuddered into life and he manoeuvred the metal body smoothly into flight. He didn’t know how far Thor could call the hammer from. This just seemed right.

~A~

Upon touching down in the woods surrounding the base, he immediately killed the engine. Stealth, as it always was for an assassin, was top priority here. Finding the place where they had come through the perimeter fence in their hasty exit heavily guarded, he had to find another weak spot to slip through. Several metal storage containers shielded the spot from view and were obviously the reason no-one had checked this part of the fence in a while.

“Amateurs.” Clint mumbled, pleased that they were. As he had suspected, nobody had been able to move the hammer from the place it had landed. It was now, however, like the perimeter, safeguarded by a dozen agents. He had taken four of them out before the others even noticed something was wrong, and another four fell, arrows lodged through their silent hearts, by the time they began shooting at him. He had cover, whereas they did not, so within another few moments the whole group were strewn across the tarmac and Clint was sprinting for the hammer.

His position behind the crates had been close enough that he was standing over it, before any more opponents came his way. The archer knew he had maybe thirty seconds at best. He bent over and gripped Mjolnir’s handle. Pulling with one hand, he grimaced in disappointment and pain as it failed to move. Clint then slid both hands around it and tried again. Still nothing. 

He began to feel desperate as he heard an alarm sound from within the building. 

“Come on,” he murmured intently, “I need to take you back to him. You’re part of him.”

Something changed beneath his fingers and he felt a tingling sensation on his palms, as though the hammer was coming to life to acknowledge his plea. Suddenly he was lifting Mjolnir out of the cracked ground up to chest height, and it was humming underneath his grip. 

He took only a moment to take in its majesty, and feel stunned and awed, before he was sprinting back toward the fence, bow strapped across his back, both hands around the intricate handle.

~A~

When he arrived back on the helicarrier, various officers tried to apprehend him, but all stopped when they saw what was still clutched valiantly in his hands.

A dazed foot soldier told him Thor had woken up and was no longer in the medical wing, so he headed for the central control room. As the main doors clicked shut behind him, the whole team, from different positions seated or standing around the conference table, turned their eyes on him. He could see Fury was just about to launch into an angry tirade, when he too noticed the item in the archer’s palms, and, surprisingly, fell silent. 

The bustle of the large room slowed down until it would have theoretically been possible to hear individual breathing patterns, Clint mused. 

Since no-one else was making a move, the marksman ventured towards Thor. For a moment they looked at each other in understanding and then Clint offered both hands out.

“Thought you might be missing this. It didn’t seem right to leave it behind.”

In that short utterance, Clint managed to communicate everything that needed to be said, and as Thor grasped the cool metal, so they were both holding the hammer, a new sense of companionship passed between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comments and kudos on the last chapter. Any thoughts on who you'd like to see follow Clint?


	3. Natasha

The third time someone other than Thor was able to lift the hammer it was in an interrogation. The red-haired assassin stood back surveying the man tied strictly to the chair before her. Outwardly he seemed like an ordinary foot soldier. Brown eyes, light brown hair, thin silver scar above his left eyebrow, standard uniform. But she knew differently. 

She knew he was going to throw everything in the book at her to put her off his trail. 

What made Natasha truly the Black Widow was not necessarily her agile combat skills and fear-inspiring hit count, but her ability to see the finest details that few others could. She had known no-one else to ever have the skill as honed as her. Until she met Clint that is.

She narrowed her eyes imperceptibly. There was a small amount of perspiration on his forehead and his knees were trembling slightly. His pupils showed no change at all. No signs of the dilation that happened when people felt fear, or contraction which tended to happen when they were in shock. He was putting on an act. 

Well, she was quite the actress herself.

“Tell me what you know about the operations happening at this base.”

She could sense the others moving around in the background, but at the moment, there was only her, and they prey. She began to thread the web.

“I- I don’t know much at all, I just help with transport, and do occasional research missions.”

“If that’s true,” her voice became seductive, “why were you in the central control room?”

“I j-just got called in by one of the lieutenants, he said there was a new mission.”

“What kind of mission?” 

“I don’t know. You have to believe me. He didn’t say. Just said it was a level one priority.”

She leaned in close like a lioness moving in for her prey. “Now why would an ordinary foot soldier, who helps with transport and does research missions, be called in for a priority mission?”

“I think they needed extra hands. I just- I don’t know.” She brought her face even closer to his, locking onto his eyes and not letting go. Her hands covered his where they were tied to the chair, and she made sure to brush her leg against his. 

“P-please. I can’t tell you what you want. Please. Just l-let me go. I have a wife and a daughter.”

She stepped back from him and walked around the back of the chair, brushing her fingers over his shoulder.

“You can’t tell me? Or you won’t.” She purred.

She saw his eyebrows twitch as he momentarily lost control of the persona he was playing. 

“As for the family, you don’t have a wife or a daughter. You killed your wife six years ago. Isn’t that right …General Stanton?”

As Natasha said the final few words and blew his act she leant in close to his face again, letting him see the full cold malice in her heart through her eyes. She felt satisfied when she found real fear in his eyes. 

“Don’t think you can lie to me.” The Widow whispered. “I know exactly who you are.” She punctuated each word quietly. “Now tell me what I want to know. Where is Thor?”

As the man before her realised there was no point in holding up the façade any longer he let it drop like the iron slice of a guillotine. The momentary fear in his eyes receded and he sat forward in his chair, matching her glare with one of his own before a sadistic smirk tilted the corner of his mouth.

“The Black Widow. You are every bit as impressive as the stories say.” He stated quietly, looking her up and down. “You had never seen me before, and yet you knew immediately I wasn’t who I said. But really that’s child’s play in the world of espionage. Merely the tip of the interrogation iceberg. The deep-set secrets that you want to know… will be much harder to gain.”

Her face remained impassive as she replied: “I’ve made men twice your size scream for mercy. If you’ve heard stories, you must understand that their one common factor is how…persuasive I am.”

He chuckled patronisingly, as if she had not just threatened his life. 

“You misunderstand me. You are impressive as a woman. That however, is your greatest downfall, and makes you less impressive as a spy. You can never match the raw power of a man equally. You must use agility and petty skill to make up for it.” He paused, smirk growing. “Your feline charms, whilst interesting, have little place in this field of masculine authority. You will never make me tell you what you need to know.”

In the background the other four members of the team noticed that the conversation had become louder and more on edge. Steve moved closer to Clint and murmured: “We should probably step in-”

“No.” Clint cut him off. “That would be the worst thing to do right now. You’d be proving everything he’s just said right.” From the calculated look he was giving Stanton, Steve gleaned that Clint actually did want to step in to the defence of his partner, but was stopping himself.

“Nat has him exactly where she wants him.” Clint added turning to Steve. “He’s in her web now. He just doesn’t know it yet.”

“Actually I understand you perfectly.” Natasha was replying to the General. “You think you’ve dropped the act in favour of your true persona, but the fact that when threatened you reverted to a character who was fearful and uncertain shows that you truly are… a coward. Your lack of belief in women shows weakness, not strength. You fear that a woman will outdo you, and so list her flaws to try to cushion yourself on a pedestal above her. That’s why you killed you wife,” she tilted her head as she moved toward him, “isn’t it? It’s also why you fear being alone with me.” Natasha said coolly, using what she had first seen in his eyes to her advantage. 

“With a male interrogator you could match power with power, but with a woman, you fall prey to feline charm.”

Stanton lunged as far forward as he could manage restrained to the chair, an ugly snarl contorting his face. 

“I’ll tell you nothing.” He spat.

Natasha remained perfectly still and continued to stare impassively at him. The granite grip of her gaze seemed to will a bead of sweat down his forehead. 

“Not a thing.” The pressure of her cold eyes was succeeding in making him continue to throw out words in his defence.

She could tell that his resolve was at its weakest now. Now was the time to shatter it.

Natasha spied exactly what she would shatter it with out of the corner of her eye. Without any warning she walked away to the left of the room.

“Nat, what…” Clint murmured as she passed the other members of the team without glancing at a single one.

Her attention was instead focused on the object sitting on the floor at the other end of the room. Mjolnir. Cracks raced across the ground running outwards from where it was placed. As though the God it belonged to had dropped it flat into the floor.

Reaching down with the slender fingers of her right hand she gently slid her palm down the handle. Exactly half way down the hilt she gripped it firmly. 

Behind her the other Avengers could see what she was attempting and remained quiet in anticipation. She had her back to Stanton, on the other hand, who couldn’t see the hammer.

From her crouched position she stood up fully, lifting the hammer from its crater in one fluid motion. For a moment she stood looking down at it with her back to everyone else in the room. Only Clint would have been able to discern the momentary change in her face which reflected awe. 

She turned swiftly and strode back across the room, looking straight at her intended target and not acknowledging the surprise on her teammates faces. 

She stopped before Stanton, facing him once more.

“Wha- how? You-” He gasped in shock.

Natasha cut off his floundering immediately. 

“Since you obviously know a little about the hammer, your surprise, while ignorant, is not unexpected. Your assumption that only Thor can lift the hammer is sadly misplaced though.” She glanced down at Mjolnir, admiring its intricate design from the closest vantage point she had ever had. 

Stanton took the moment to hiss: “You’re no man. Certainly no God. Your power has no consequence.” 

“Only someone who is worthy can lift it. While I may not be male, and certainly no God,” she moved in so she was just inches from Stanton’s face, “I am worthy.”

Stepping back with a note of finality, she swiftly brought Mjolnir down on the right hand of Stanton. The general let out an anguished scream as the bones of his knuckles crunched and shattered under the pressure. The scream continued as she turned the hammer, letting it do a little more nerve and muscle damage. 

“Tell me, where is Thor?” 

When no reply was forthcoming Natasha broke the bones in his wrist. 

“Al-right, alright.” The man whimpered, finally defeated by Natasha’s prowess. 

He told the team where they were holding Thor, and the Black Widow walked from the room, followed by the others, carrying the hammer. She took not even one glance back at the man she had just shattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN - Finally finished chapter three! Sorry it’s taken me longer than I anticipated to upload, but thank you for your feedback on the last two chapters. Your continued support really motivates me and makes me smile when I read the comments. Please let me know who you’d like to see next, or which characters you’d like to feature in any bonus chapters I write. :)


	4. Bruce

Chapter Four – Bruce

The fourth time someone other than Thor was able to lift the hammer it was in one of the least likely settings. 

The mild-mannered scientist was in the main lab on the helicarrier. After various different missions Bruce had come to find comfort in this space. It was an area of familiarity with the gentle hum of instruments and machines making a little quiet music for him as he worked. 

Not five minutes before the only music he’d been hearing was the quick-paced discussions between Steve and Tony as they argued over battle strategies. Bruce doubted that it could be called music though. He also doubted it could be called an argument. 

To an outsider it might seem that way, but as one of the team he had come to notice these subtleties of Steve and Tony’s relationship. There was no anger behind their words, only a desire to be right and come up with the safest plan that was the least likely to get anyone injured.

Although their stubborn nature’s meant that neither would ever admit it, Bruce knew that Steve and Tony enjoyed each other’s wit and sarcastic comments. Tony had found someone who could match his darting tongue with sense and precautions. Steve had found someone who balanced his cautious nature with a little daring. 

Their discussions seemed to help them work through any issues, not only in their plans, but with each other. 

Steve had been reminding Tony that he was part of a team and couldn’t just go solo whenever he felt it was necessary in the middle of a mission.  
Tony had retorted that his decision to break off from the group was the only thing that had allowed them to catch the perpetrator. 

Thor set his hammer down on the worktop across from Bruce and walked over.

He leaned against the bench near where the scientist was working and studied him for a brief moment before looking back to the conversation.

“Sometimes I do wonder if they just want to talk for talking’s sake.” He rumbled, chuckling quietly. “What they appear to be discussing on the surface, is not always what they truly deign to talk about if one looks deeper. They find assurance in each other’s arguments. It lets them know that by becoming part of a team they haven’t lost what made them a hero in the first place.”

Bruce stopped working for a moment to glance round, first at the two men in the centre of the room, and then at the Asgardian. He couldn’t help but think that Thor was right, and that the God could sometimes surprise them with his insight. Bruce reflected that in moments such as this the prince’s astute clarity made his words as much of a weapon as his hammer. He would make a wise King one day.

After they had discussed their way to an even tie, they left the lab to go and change out of their suits. Thor, Clint and Natasha, who had also been present, left with them.  
Clint had asked Bruce if he was coming, but the scientist declined saying he had a few tests to finish up.

“Bruce the mission was a success, you can take a little time off you know.” Natasha had reminded him archly. 

He looked over to see her giving him a rare smile. 

“Ok.” He had agreed. “I’ll finish up this test and join you in a bit.”

Seeming satisfied by this response, the two assassins followed Thor out of the lab.

Bruce continued to work quietly and a couple of minutes later a few technicians entered the lab. They began to check over a piece of equipment but he drowned out their murmurings and focused on his task. 

The volume of the voices suddenly increased and when they had reached an almost questionable pitch, he turned around.

The four technicians were gathered excitedly around Thor’s hammer. Bruce hadn’t noticed until now, but the Asgardian had left it on the bench when he came to talk to the scientist. It seemed odd to the brunette that the God would leave such a powerful weapon untended, but he had done so before several times. Its presence in the wrong hands was unthinkable. But it could never fall into the wrong hands, quite literally, as no-one else could wield it, which explained why the blonde was comfortable with leaving it in the weaponry – and apparently in the lab.

Bruce’s musings on this were soon proven correct when each technician in turn attempted to lift the silver hammer. And failed miserably. 

The scientist returned to his work, shaking his head slightly at their young triviality. It was only when he heard on of them exclaim that they should experiment on it that he turned back to face them. 

One woman and three men stood before him and one of the men was holding a prong designed to give off small jolts of electricity at random intervals. They had ignored him up until this point, but as he stood up and took off his glasses they looked up, recognising his presence. 

“That doesn’t belong to you and I really don’t think what you’re about to try is wise.” He stated, calmly walking over.

The momentary surprise on their faces evolved into other emotions. One of the men looked fearful of him, and the other three looked disdainful. He could see in their eyes that they were repelled by what they knew he had become, and irritated that he had interrupted them. 

“Doctor Banner I really don’t think this concerns you. Why don’t you go and get a coffee?” One of the men asked, but it wasn’t posed as a question, and a hint of a thread lingered in his expression.

“As a scientist I think it does concern me. You have no idea how an off-world artefact will react to an electrically charged instrument – especially one that is already predisposed towards electricity.”

“If I remember correctly, currents and charges are my specialist field, not yours.”

“I wasn’t finished. As a scientist this concerns me. But it also concerns me as an Avenger. You’re interfering with another Avenger’s weaponry, which could be a class two offense against S.H.I.E.L.D and the state if I’m not mistaken.”

The man opposite him flinched but still refused to back down.

“Well that alien shouldn’t have left it unattended then.”

Bruce felt something green twist inside of him. He had heard Thor called an alien before, but never with as much malice. It irritated him almost irrationally. Three of the technicians clearly saw a gleam of green in his eyes as they stepped backwards instantly, bravado gone.

The brash one clearly wasn’t going to take the hint and back down. It had been three months since the Hulk had managed to come out of its own control, and four months before that. He was becoming adept at controlling his changes, and didn’t want to break that now. So he put his glasses back on and did the only thing he could think of to diffuse the situation.

He reached over and grasped Mjolnir.

He could feel something within him shift in recognition of the hammer, and knew that the other guy had acknowledged the weapon he once failed to lift.

Bruce wasn’t really sure he could do it. He knew he was being slightly irrational; he should have just firmly that they should leave the hammer.

But something in him decided he was going to show them. Not just that they should back down, but that they shouldn’t speak about a fellow Avenger that way, and they shouldn’t underestimate him.

With his glasses firmly back in place, he looked the technician in the eye and lifted Mjolnir from its place.

There was a moment of utter silence where even the machines seemed to go still. As much as he liked it Bruce determined it was one thing he had no trouble breaking.  
“I think I better return this to my friend.”

With that he left the four of them alone in the lab with only the broken silence for company.

~A~

He found the others easily enough; he could hear Steve and Tony from down the corridor. There was only a moment to register their staggered expressions before he felt an unfortunate blush sweeping his cheeks and quickly extended the hand holding Mjolnir to Thor.

“You left this behind.”

Thor was quiet for a moment before letting one of his genuine, frequently-given smiles light his face.

“Thank you my friend.”

Their eyes met for a moment and Bruce felt what could only be described as a connection with someone who recognised his worth and understood the burden of unparalleled strength.

The connection was then broken by Tony complaining loudly that they might as well kick him out of the fellowship because he was the only one not to have lifted the hammer.

This was followed by Steve asking what he meant by fellowship, and Tony rolling his eyes and exclaiming that as soon as he had swung the Mjolnir like a lasso, they were watching Lord of the Rings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N~ Hello again. I thought now would be a good time to upload the next chapter to give you something (hopefully) enjoyable to read if, like me, you’re swimming in feelings after watching the latest episode of Merlin.  
> Sorry it’s been so long since I last updated this story, there’s no excuse really. I have been busy with Uni work and other stories, but finally got back to this one yesterday. As I was writing I remembered how much I love creating each chapter, so I’m sure the next one will be up quicker since I’ve found my inspiration again.   
> Thanks for the continuous kudos and comments – you’re all amazing. Since this chapter is Bruce, you guessed right, the next one is of course Tony. Many of you seem to have been waiting for him so I’m going to have to pull something special out of the bag. But for now, enjoy this chapter, and please leave ideas about any secondary characters that you might like to see lift the hammer.


	5. Tony - Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N - I've had this chapter saved for a while, but have been neglecting AO3 recently. But I'm going to be updating all my stories as of now, so I'm sorry to have kept you waiting, and here is the latest chapter.

The fifth time someone other than Thor was able to lift the hammer all hell had broken loose.

Tony groggily opened his eyes after being brusquely backhanded across the jaw. He couldn’t remember the last thing he remembered which was particularly unhelpful, but something about the atmosphere gave him the instant feeling he was in danger. Even when he hid tried to modify Clint’s arrows, the archer had never hit him like that. The engineer could tell he was not among friends anymore.

As his pupils focused in on the dirty grey floor he noticed dark red circles splattered at intervals near his feet, which he also realised were bare. Blood. As he became aware of the pounding sensation in his head he realised it had to be his blood. Not an uncommon sight for him but slightly worrying in these unknown circumstances. 

The billionaire managed to lift his head, easing his aching neck up to face the entity that had just bequeathed him a backhand. That entity was a man, perhaps mid-thirties, with brown eyes and a nondescript face except for a relatively fresh-looking scar that skimmed his cheekbone. 

He wore nothing of the smirks of satisfaction that several of Tony’s former captors had across their faces. His face was intently expressionless and this seemed to radiate a malice that was much more disquieting than anything held in a victorious smirk. 

Without introductions, or any kind of prelude he asked: “Where is it?”

Tony was struck in that moment by both the memory of how he had come into contact with his captor in the first place, and the realisation that he was helplessly shackled to the wall behind him. The memory – of being jerked off his feet as the door to his lab was blown inward, made him feel suddenly nervous about being defenceless in front of someone so calculatedly ruthless. 

He also recalled the unadulterated surprise, as he lay beneath the mess of rubble his lab door had become, of realising that no warning had triggered on his security systems. Any of them. That was the last coherent thought he could recollect before waking up here. 

Another swift crack across the jaw reminded him that he hadn’t answered the question. And that he didn’t actually understand its context at all. 

“Where is it?”

This would probably be a good time to elicit some sort of answer before his jaw was too swollen to allow a reply.

“You may have to be more specific.”

Apparently this was adequate, as the man before him grabbed his neck and pushed his thumb into Tony’s windpipe.

“Sarcasm won’t buy you any time. Where is…the hammer?”

So that was what this was about. But why ask him, why not ask the big guy? 

The chilling realisation then hit Tony that they wouldn’t be asking about the hammer, they’d be asking about Thor, unless the two had been separated. He’d never known Thor to leave Mjollnir behind willingly. A quick flick of his arm and it was back in his grasp. Unless it hadn’t been willingly at all. The few times one of the team had managed to retrieve it for him, he’d been unconscious. Or worse. 

The engineer’s internal thoughts became slightly laboured then as the hand restricting his oxygen flow tightened painfully. He made a grunt as if to speak and the hand loosened.

“I hate to be obvious, but you’re asking the wrong guy. It’s the blonde one you want, you know, tall, blue-eyed, muscles like sculpted bronze.”

At this the hand tightened again before smashing his head against the wall, making his vision blur disconcertingly. Tony knew he should comply and try to answer what was being asked of him. It wasn’t like he enjoyed the pain now reverberating through his skull. But for some reason, his sarcastic streak always seemed to emerge in moments like these. His stubborn nature meant that he would never let these types of people have what they wanted. Even at the cost of his own safety.

“A straight answer would be best.”

Both Pepper and Rhodey had warned him his sharp tongue would be the death of him once or twice before, but it had never seemed apt until now. 

“I don’t know. The last thing I remember was someone blowing a hole in my lab. I suppose I have you to thank for that? I’ll keep you informed about the final bill.”

“The only thing you’ll be informing me of are the whereabouts of the Asgardian’s hammer.”

“I’ve already said, I don’t know. I can’t give you information I don’t have.”

The man stepped back out of Tony’s personal space. If he hadn’t been so well-acquainted with these situations he might have thought the stranger was giving him a reprieve. But, he was, in fact, well-acquainted and so knew better. 

The stinging crunch of a rib still came as a jarring surprise when the full force of the man’s fist ploughed into his abdomen. Despite himself Tony gasped in agony. Almost definitely cracked. The next blow imbued a searing pain in the side of his forehead. If he hadn’t been so focused on the pain the billionaire might have wondered if the man had lead injected into his knuckles.

Several more strikes were bestowed on him, and Tony wasn’t in any doubt that the man would have beaten him until he passed out if he hadn’t been interrupted. 

The stranger answered the timid knock at the door with a voice that contained enough carefully controlled wrath to make Tony silently grateful for whoever was turning that rage away from him, and toward themselves. The voices were too low for him to catch any of the conversation, but the billionaire’s vision cleared enough to allow him to see his captor give him a cursory glance before sweeping from the room. 

With the imminent threat gone, Tony’s bravado followed in its wake and he sagged against the manacles keeping him upright. He was alone, as far as he knew, and had no knowledge about the location of any other members of the team. If these guys were after Thor’s hammer, the Asgardian could be in trouble. He had at least one cracked rib, a concussion and a head wounded that was steadily dripping blood. He had been captured without his suit, or any of the sensors that allowed him to call for it. In short he was Iron Man without the Iron. 

Tony allowed himself a moment to keenly feel the gravity of his predicament before awkwardly manoeuvring himself into a position where he could reach inside his right t-shirt sleeve with his right hand. A security camera hanging down from the ceiling was angled in his direction, but with any luck whatever had called the man away was pressing enough to be keeping everyone occupied. 

In his sleeve was a silver lining, literally. The amount of tight spots he’d been in had lead him to take precautions, specifically the kind that involved having a wire sewn into the stitched hem of his sleeve. A wire ideal for lock picking. He might be Iron Man without the Iron. But he was a man with a sliver of steel. 

~A~

Picking the locks was simple enough, a task he’d mastered before being able to tie his shoelaces. Everything from then onwards was less straightforward. The manacles were welded to the wall. No amount of picking would pry them free and brute force without his suit certainly wasn’t going to be enough. The camera was too high to be of any use and the room was empty of anything else, leaving him with just the one weapon. 

In a fight against armed enemies, Tony doubted a single lock pick was going to be any help. He instantly regretted the thought though when he reached the door. It was in the camera’s blind spot, buying him a few minutes before they noticed he had broken free. Studying it, he found it to be electronically operated, one that required a card swipe to get in and out. 

But the genius recognised the design as one he had seen before. They had a flaw in their manufacturing which allowed someone with the right knowledge to be able to slide off the swipe compartment and access the pad beneath. Doing so, Tony found a circuit board of wires that he had never seen before. It was annoying when people changed their designs without giving him a chance to hack their files and study them. 

He fiddled with the wires, making several sparks and burning his thumb, before managing to cut door’s power supply and turn off the swipe pad. Gingerly he tried the handle and found that it swung inwards without any resistance. Grabbing his pick from where it was embedded within the circuit board he left the cell. 

The outer hallway was just as mundanely grey as the room where he had been held. It was irritating that these people had enough money for electronic swipe door systems, but wouldn’t install windows. Irritatingly strategic. He had no indication as to where he was. 

They would have seen by now that he was no longer held captive and Tony estimated he had maybe a minute and a half, depending on the size of the compound, before the spot he was standing on was crawling with adversaries, who would be all too happy to shoot him where he stood. With this knowledge fuelling his adrenaline, he chose a direction at random and stumbled away down the hall. 

The concussion and blood loss were taking a toll, as he found himself bumping walls as he hurriedly turned corners at random in an attempt to put as much space between himself and the cell as possible. The colour scheme was certainly designed to be as unhelpful as possible- grey on grey made everything blend together in a mind-numbing way that did nothing to help his pounding head. 

Footsteps moving his way made Tony jerk to a stop. There were several unmarked doors on his right and he quickly fumbled with each handle in turn, trying to find a place to hide. Each one was locked. He could feel a rising tension at the realisation he would have to fight his way out, when the fifth and final handle yielded. 

Pushing it open, he threw himself inside, what turned out to be a filing room, as swiftly as was possible with declining coordination. The footsteps, and voices to match were close enough now that the billionaire knew they would hear him if he shut the door, so he pushed it as close to the frame as possible without it actually being closed. 

The footsteps were moving at a jog, four pairs it sounded like, and were rapidly approaching the room. Couching behind a cabinet, Tony tried not to breathe, although if they searched the room it wouldn’t matter as they would find him regardless. 

Snatches of conversation chimed louder along with the boots. In fifteen seconds they’d either find him or pass him. Twelve seconds. Ten. Eight. 

But Tony instantly stopped counting when he heard a mention of his fellow Avenger.

“…blonde God couldn’t …”

“…hammer…went down…”

“…Asgardian can’t…make sure…some blood…”

Thor. They were talking about Thor. Tony involuntarily leaned forward in an attempt to eavesdrop in on more of the conversation, but their voices were already receding. He barely felt the sudden relief at not being discovered.

They had Thor. Was it even possible? He’d seen the blonde Asgardian taken down maybe twice and in those two instances it hadn’t been long before the God was up and standing again. His regenerative capabilities seemed second only, perhaps, to Bruce’s. 

But from his stay, wherever this place was, he’d learnt that these people were unequivocally ruthless. He knew very little about the place so far, but he knew that much. Having had time to think about it, he recognised that if someone hadn’t interrupted them, his captor from earlier would have killed him. Whether the man had beaten him to death or waited to see if he’d talked and then eradicated him, his life would have been forfeit. 

If they had Thor, alive there might be hope. Without his suit he was in no position to escape. But from the fragments of conversation, neither might the Asgardian be. They clearly wanted the hammer, his assailant from earlier had made that unmistakeable. For what intents and purposes remained obscure. 

Taking a deep breath to control the rush of fluid thoughts, and more potent rush of blood round his head, Tony stood up from where he had been crouched behind the cabinet.   
One of the men had said ‘Asgardian can’t’. Can not. Present tense. Which meant they must have Thor here. Any Tony had to find him. 

~A~

This task proved more difficult than he had envisioned. The layout of the place had been shrewdly built so that the corridors were identical and seemed to run in squares. Tony couldn’t tell if he’d made progress in one direction, or doubled back on himself in another. 

Fatigue and blood loss were gradually wearing him down, and the platoons of soldiers were getting harder to avoid. With the first he was lucky. With the second they missed him by an infinitesimal change. With the third they clashed inescapably and Tony was brought to his knees with four guns aimed at his glowing chest. 

He struggled weakly while two of them cuffed him. One pounded him across the head with the butt of his gun, dazing him enough so that they could drag him compliantly to their commander. 

Tony regained some awareness of his surroundings as they reached a large, encoded door made from what appeared to be reinforced steel. After completing the security checks, they forced him through before dropping him to his brusquely to his knees in the centre of the room. 

With wry irony, Tony mused that perhaps his plan should have been to let himself be captured all along. For, in that one action, he had achieved his two objectives. 

The ceiling and one wall of the room were composed entirely of glass, permitting him to see the location of where he was being held captive. The sense of irony increased so much that he almost laughed when recalling thinking about the gravity of his situation. He couldn’t have chosen a more unbefitting word if he’d tried. Through the glass before him, there was nothing but sky. It wasn’t a land compound he was being held in, it was an airship. 

He wasn’t being held alone too. In the centre of the room, with his captor from earlier standing imposingly over him, was the very person he’d been trying to find. 

'What have they done to you?'

That was the only coherent thought Tony could process as he stared across at Thor.


End file.
